


all unlooked for

by stillwaterseas (phoenixflight)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst and Porn, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Prince Damianos & Slave Laurent (Captive Prince), Rimming, canon typical mentions of assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22767787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixflight/pseuds/stillwaterseas
Summary: As part of his uncle's scheming, Laurent has been sent to Ios as a slave and has to maintain the fiction until he can speak to Prince Damianos alone.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 350





	all unlooked for

**Author's Note:**

> This is a single scene from a plotty slave!Laurent fic that I will probably never write, so here is a porny snippet. Intended to be a birthday gift and ended up a Valentine's gift instead, many months late, for Elliott. <3 And of course, for all my other beloved heathens in this fandom.

“Who’s this?” Damianos said. Laurent didn’t move, forehead pressed to the cool marble, prostrated in the humiliating position of Akielon slaves. He had learned fast over the last few weeks.

Erasmus, also still face down, murmured, “Exalted, if it pleases you, he is called Aster. He does not speak Akielon.”

“Is Lykaios well?” Damianos almost sounded like he cared.

“A minor illness, Exalted. This slave apologizes if Exalted is displeased.”

“No, Erasmus, I am not displeased. I only hope she recovers soon.” So Damianos was missing his favorite slave; Laurent would have to work harder to please him. He risked lifting his head, and found Damianos looking at him, frankly evaluative and appreciative. Laurent was accustomed to being watched like that, but it felt even more invasive than usual wearing nothing but flimsy slave silks and heavy gold cuffs. The ocean breeze from the open window fluttered the gauze against his skin like probing fingers.

A slave would not have met Damianos’ gaze so boldly, but Laurent let his gaze linger. Damianos smiled a little. “You are beautiful,” he said in Veretian, and Laurent felt a jolt of surprise. He had not considered Damianos’ mastery of his own language. Before he could decide whether it was wise to respond, Damianos reached out and pressed his thumb against Laurent’s lips.

Shivering, Laurent strengthened his resolve. He had to play along until he could speak to Damianos alone. He flicked his tongue out, tasting salt on the pad of Damianos’s finger, and sucked it into his mouth.

Damianos’ eyes darkened. “Hungry?”

Hollowly his cheeks showily, Laurent swirled his tongue, feeling the sword calluses and subtle whorls of his flesh.

“Undress me,” Damianos ordered. “You may stand.”

Pulling off his finger with a wet pop, Laurent marshaled his breathing and rose to his feet. His hands did not shake as he undid the laughably simple pin-clasps and unwound the sheet from the Prince’s body. His proportions were impressive, undeniably well-crafted, all hard muscle and sun-baked brown skin.

Damianos’ cock was visibly thickening between his legs without being touched. It was as big as the rest of him, not even fully hard. “Your mouth,” he said, the same way one might command a dog to heel, and Laurent felt his stomach turn over.

Sinking to his knees again, Laurent told himself that it was a performance like any other he would perform at court. Just another exercise of the body, like sword drills or riding. Erasmus was still kneeling behind them, and there were two body slaves in the room also. Akielons would barely kiss in front of other people, but to the barbarians of course, slaves weren’t people.

He began slowly, with his lips and tongue, teasing until Damianos’ cock was standing up proudly, bumping Laurent’s cheek. Sighing contentedly, Damianos threaded his fingers through Laurent’s hair, tugging meaningfully. Laurent hated that with a visceral twist in his gut, but he obeyed, opening his mouth wide to slide down as far as he could go.

His throat constricted, fluttering in rejection but he swallowed against the reflex, sinking down further, feeling the burning pressure against his esophagus. Certainly, Damianos had slaves who could do this more skillfully than Laurent – his uncle’s cock had not been anywhere near this size. So something else would need to be memorable.

Laurent pulled back so the head was just resting against his lips, before sinking down all the way again. He repeated the motion, gaining fluidity each time until he felt Damianos’ thighs tensing beneath his hands with each stroke, clearly fighting not to thrust forward. Hazily, Laurent wondered why he bothered to restrain himself.

Sliding off and swallowing the urge to cough, Laurent returned to more delicate arts, licking his own spit up off the shaft and swirling his tongue in the slit. Damianos was looking down at him with wide eyes. Laurent fought down hysterical amusement that his Uncle’s twisted tutelage had become a weapon in Laurent’s armory. He wondered if he had known at the time, on his knees with his mouth open and his eyes shut, whether that thought would have comforted him.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” Damianos grunted. His broad chest was heaving visibly, cock leaking on Laurent’s tongue. Well, he’d gotten the prince’s attention. Now, to get him away from the other slaves, where he could talk freely.

Laurent licked his lips, looking up meaningfully. “We would be more comfortable in a bed.” Slaves weren’t meant to speak unless spoken to, and certainly not to make suggestions or requests, but men were lenient when their cocks were wet, and the gossip in the slave-gardens said that Damianos was an indulgent master.

He half-expected Damianos’ laugh which was already a familiar sound in Ios. What he did not expect was for the man to bend down, wrapping one arm around Laurent’s shoulders and the other beneath his legs, and pick him up.

Smothering a yelp, Laurent grasped Damianos’ shoulders reflexively, feeling muscle flex beneath warm skin. The brute carried him into the bedchamber like a prisoner of war, and tossed him bodily on the bed. Bouncing on his back, slightly winded, Laurent pushed himself up on his elbows and opened his mouth to stop this, to speak his own true name aloud and return to the real reason for this farce, but Damianos leaned over him, eclipsing daylight, and kissed him.

Laurent held his body very still and let his lips part. Slaves were trained in this, in the gardens, through lecture and observation, and a bubble of hilarity tightened Laurent’s throat as he realized he had gotten an almost identical education in Vere, watching pet performances and listening to courtiers gossip about the technique of their favorite kissers. It was not something Uncle had ever done, and he did not know whether he was grateful for that. Not that experiencing it for the first time with a barbarian was any better.

He had expected ferocity, an oral claiming, but Damianos was delicate. Their lips brushed and parted, met again at a different angle, explorative. Damianos flicked his tongue out, wetting Laurent’s lower lip, and sending an unexpected shiver through him. The sensations were light and tantalizing.

Damianos had his broad hands pressed against Laurent’s sides, and as they kissed he dragged them up, over Laurent’s ribs, to thumb at his nipples. Trapped beneath him, Laurent jolted, bright startling arousal shooting through him, cock twitching and beginning to harden.

He tried to pull his head away. This was not what he was here for. Now that they were alone, he simply needed to speak to Damianos, none of the rest of this. But when he jerked his head back, Damianos merely lowered his mouth and nipped at his neck, and Laurent found the words gone from his throat and replaced with a breathy gasp. Damianos used the same combination of lips, tongue, and teeth with which he had explored Laurent’s mouth. Pressing his lips together, Laurent refused to make any more noise after the first, startled one, but he couldn’t repress the small shivers that ran through him and the fact that his cock was throbbing against his belly, fully hard.

Marshalling himself, he shoved at Damianos’ shoulders, trying to push him away, and to his surprised, Damianos moved easily. Blinking, Laurent tried to push himself up on his elbows again, trying to remember what he had been planning to begin with. He was not used to his mind feeling so far from his grasp and he did not like it.

Damianos sat back, but before Laurent could get a word out, he’d scooted down the bed, and bent over to take Laurent’s cock in his mouth. Helplessly, Laurent arched up before he got control of his body’s response again. But he couldn’t stop the way his breathing went ragged, chest feeling tight, and how his cock jerked and leaked a little on Damianos’ tongue.

The Akielon prince was clearly practiced at this, although his technique was not showy. He didn’t choke when Laurent’s involuntary movement shoved his cock deeper. Instead, he braced broad hands on Laurent’s hips and took him deep. It was a revelation; he understood in one wet, hot moment why men loved this so. He scrabbled at the sheets with both hands, trying to ground himself as his entire body tightened around the heat in his groin.

Damianos slid his mouth off his cock and Laurent shuddered at the sudden change of sensation. He licked down the length of Laurent’s cock and mouthed gently at his balls. The intensity built in Laurent’s chest into something almost panicky and he squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed.

When he felt Damianos’ hands on his thighs, spreading him open, he was almost relieved. At least this was familiar. Then he felt a tickling gust of breath and something slick and flexing slid across his hole.

Laurent’s eyes flew open again. Damianos was licking him. He was clean – thoroughly and humiliatingly cleaned by the handlers in the slave baths – but it was still a filthy, servile act. Fit for slaves and pets, not princes. Instinctively, he tried to close his legs, but Damianos’ hands were holding him open, fingers digging into his thighs.

“Don’t- you don’t – ah!” Laurent gasped, in Veretian.

“Don’t you like it?” Damianos asked, voice muffled. Laurent could feel the vibration of his voice all the way through his groin to the root of his cock. He didn’t bother to wait for Laurent’s answer, just licked him again, tongue twisting and pressing into him.

Open-mouthed and mute Laurent arched up, trying to get away and closer at once. It was too much. Damianos reached with one long arm for a jar of oil beside the bed and Laurent thought again that he had to stop this. Every time he tried to draw breath to speak, Damianos’ tongue robbed him of it. His cock was leaking onto his belly, throbbing already.

One of Damianos’ thick fingers pressed into him gently. It had been years but Laurent’s body remembered how to take it.

“Shhh, it’s alright. Relax.” Damianos was whispering soothing nonsense against his thigh, breath ghosting over Laurent’s skin and raising his hairs. Vaguely, Laurent remembered that Damianos would expect him to be a virgin – it would be a terrible insult to send him a slave who was not. The thought of Uncle erasing their history in order to sell him to a barbarian royal was almost funny. At least, considering that was preferable to paying attention to the soft words Damianos kept murmuring, alternating between Veretian and Akielon. Despite himself, Laurent was finding them calming. It was the tone. Even animals reacted to a soothing monologue, he told himself. It was an involuntary reaction that had his body opening, letting Damianos sink his fingers deeper, two and then three. “You’re doing so well,” Damianos praised him, and Laurent wanted to scream.

With a touch of hysteria Laurent realized that he was about to get fucked by the prince of Akielos. He opened his mouth again. “This isn’t – I don’t... I’m not...”

“I know it’s overwhelming the first time. Just let me make you feel good.” Before Laurent could protest further, Damianos had returned his mouth to where his fingers were working inside Laurent, and Laurent shuddered, clenching down. That made Damianos’ fingers press more firmly against that sensitive place inside him and Laurent cried out in shock as his climax took him unexpectedly.

The fist of pressure at the base of his cock released suddenly and Laurent gasped, arching. The curl of Damianos’ fingers prolonged the sensation of sparks flaring under his skin, spilling out from his core. When he finally blinked his eyes open there was come on his chest, on his chin, and his muscles felt like water.

Damianos was grinning up at him from between Laurent’s knees, chin wet with oil and spit. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, and stroked his fingers inside Laurent again, making him convulse with an aftershock. His spent cock twitched a little on his stomach. “That was lovely.”

Had the Prince come? Laurent didn’t think so. When he got up on his knees, lifting Laurent’s legs over his own broad thighs, it was obvious that Damianos had not come yet, thick cock standing up, glistening at the tip. Laurent’s head was hazy with the after-rush of pleasure. Why, then, would he look so pleased?

Laurent was limp and befuddled, distressed as his own weakness, and Damianos’ cock was a blunt pressure against his hole. Gathering the scraps of his composure, Laurent tried again. “Wait. I don’t – this isn’t-”

The words caught in his throat, words he had never managed to say when he needed them before. So why should now be any different? Panic was stifling in his chest.

Damianos felt him tense, and rubbed his hands down Laurent’s thighs, soothing him like an animal again. “Shhhh. Easy. You’re doing so well. So perfect. Deep breath now, you’ll be alright.” Despite himself, Laurent took a deep breath, and felt his body, already loose from his orgasm, relax further. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”

The stretch of his cock burned a little, but this part at least was familiar. It had been a long time since he’d gotten fucked, and Laurent was shocked, a little horrified, at how good it felt – a sweet ache deep inside, the startling pangs of pleasure when Damianos moved just right. He wished he were on his stomach, the vulnerability of being face to face making his cheeks burn and his eyes prickle. Tightening his fists in the sheets, he settled for closing his eyes, so Damianos’ voice was unexpectedly close to his ear as he said, “That’s right, just like that. Easy. You’re a natural. See, it’s not so hard, is it?”

Something about his voice, deep and warm, was comforting. His accented Veretian could never be mistaken for the polished court dialect of Arles. Laurent gritted his teeth, furious with himself, but the tension in his body just made the Prince groan, breath damp against his neck.

His cock, traitorously, was hard again, aching with stimulation. When Damianos bent his head to lick at Laurent’s nipples it jerked and leaked, and Laurent bit back a cry. It was a hot afternoon, and sweat dampened Damianos’ black curls, making their skin slick between them. Laurent’s second climax built slowly, against his will, as the Akielon prince fucked him steadily. It had been years since Laurent felt so utterly out of his own control. When he came, he turned his head aside, eyes squeezed shut again, wishing he could hide his face, and Damianos whispered sweet, encouraging words as he spilled over his stomach.

Laurent’s cock twitched with an aftershock as Damianos slammed deeply into him, groaning as he finished also. They lay tangled together for a long moment, the cries of gulls drifting in through the open window, afternoon sun bright on the tiled floor. Being skin to skin with someone in the lethargy after orgasm was deceptively relaxing. Laurent forced himself to focus, and finally found his voice. “Get off me.”

Damianos lifted his weight off Laurent, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Did I hurt you?” There was a furrow on his handsome brow, lips parted slightly.

Remotely, Laurent was startled by the question. He shook his head, holding up his hand to cut him off. It was a gesture that a slave would never make. Damianos’ surprise turned to something almost like amusement; a man who enjoyed spirit in his playthings, entertained by the endearing liberties of a new slave.

Laurent drew a breath and shattered the illusion. “I have a message for you from Prince Laurent of Vere.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at [ stillwaterseas](http://stillwaterseas.tumblr.com/) or at my fandom blog [seas-of-ios](https://seas-of-ios.tumblr.com/)


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